”The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide...

”The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past… The day before he died, my mother did something inexplicable. She took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea. The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. She squinted against the bright sunlight, making sure of our isolation.”  

— from the novel Sinful Folk